My dear boy,


No, I am not angry, no, it is not want of love that makes me write, but fulness of love. For I do dearly love you, and therefore I cannot but be grieved for you, when I see you in the way to lose that which is more worth, and more necessary to you, than a father's blessing — the good opinion of all good men.


I have told you many a time, that if you intend to succeed in the world, you must be sure to have a strict regard to your words — to the truth of what you say, and to the manner in which you say it.


The world is a great school, and you are sent into it to learn, and therefore you should think it a very great shame not to learn your lesson well. For your father and mother, and all your friends, have been at great pains and cost to send you to this school, and you will be a very bad boy and a very ungrateful one, if you do not mind your book, and make the most of your time.


I have been very much concerned lately to hear that you have not been as attentive to your studies as you ought to have been. Pray, let me hear no more such news of you; for you cannot imagine how much it would grieve me to see you idle and careless.


You are now at an age when habits are formed, and if you get bad ones now, it will be very hard to get rid of them by-and-by. It is like twisting a young twig — you can turn it any way you please; but when it becomes a great tree, you cannot bend it.


Therefore, my dear boy, be wise in time; and while you are young, get into such habits as will be a credit and a comfort to you all your life after. Strive to be as good as you can; and never be satisfied with being good, if you can be better.


Remember that time flies, and that nothing which is good and useful is ever lost.


Your affectionate father,

Philip Sidney